Chapter 17: Superpowers?

Asshole opened the white door; both walked in, silent and brooding. The room was relatively large; clearly, a converted dormitory with items and furniture scattered randomly. Mark was thankful the military had put at least some effort into his residence. However, the scramble to prepare the space was revealing; they had not prepared this far in advance.

'Did they not know I had the... beam? Then, they know as little as I do.'

He presumed the room to have been sorted roughly after the hospital incident; the moment they realized, they had something exceptionally significant on their hands. With a wry smile, he felt comforted. It was nice that even as his world collapsed around him, confused and afraid, he was not alone.

Realizing his mind wandered, he looked at the suited man, frowning at his expression. He was looking bored and somewhat annoyed, Mark's smile dropping.

"You done?" The asshole asked, "Clearly, someone high up loves you; the room was prepared before you were even booked."

Doing the same as the man did before, not deigning to answer, Mark furrowed his brow as Asshole sighed. He thought it prudent and unwise to anger those keeping him here.

"Good." Asshole spoke, "Stay here; I'll be back with another before we take you to... wherever you need to go."

He closed the door, removing himself as Mark glanced outside the window. The sky was dyed orange, the setting sun a beautiful sight, and the bed, as he sat on it, not so nice. Sitting up, he tutted as it felt more like straw than a mattress.

Sighing, his mind meandered; and thinking back upon the memories of the past two days, he teared up. It was getting increasingly difficult to bear everything with a brave face. He wondered whether his dad ever broke down after what happened. Or was he unflinching, brave and considerate amid adversity? Now... he would never know.

'I just need to continue. Like, Dad. Just like him.'

The minutes passed by; Mark left to himself. His thoughts started to spiral, questioning himself, despite his desires. Was he involved? Of course, I am, he supposed. But was it his fault? Did he unleash such chaos? He could not answer them; no one could, not yet. However, perhaps, if he learns of his curse, he could find out.

There was a knock at the door, bringing him from his mind. Reality returned, blurred as he smelt salt running down his face. He wiped the water with his gown, looking up as a duo walked in.

One was the Asshole, but the other was a woman, presumably Commander Mackay. She was dressed in fatigues, her rank patch visible: a red and yellow crown above three... stars? The man was quiet, holding the door open as the soldier handed something to Mark. She winced as she bent down to give it to him, her right leg shaking.

He took them out of instinct, staring at a pile of casual clothes as she spoke. Her voice was stern yet gentle, a warmth, unlike the suited man. It felt like she knew what he was going through.

"Take off the gown, and get rid of the past." She said, "Put these on and become the future. We'll be outside, come out when you're ready."

She had a tender smile, her teeth slightly yellow and the smile showing the aged crinkles of her bi-racial skin. Turning, she exited the room, roughly grabbing the Asshole's arm, much to his apparent annoyance.

Mark changed clothes, nothing fancy, a t-shirt, tracksuit bottoms and trainers. His hearing picked up the hallway conversation, listening as they whispered and got dressed.

"Barak." She huffed, "What did you do? The kid clearly dislikes you; his look gave that much away."

The man, Barak, scoffed, "What do you mean? I didn't do anything; it's not my fault he disagrees with some of the things I said. It's also not my problem."

"Fuck sake, you fool! Did you not get the fucking memo? Ugh, of course not." She grunted, "Make him comfortable, do not piss him off. He just butchered a fucking hospital with a... laser. So, be fucking civil."

"Wait, what?" Barak paused, "Tsk, I haven't looked at my phone since before the helicopter. My bad."

Their conversation was seemingly at an end; Mark moved to the door and opened it with a light smile. The woman gave Barak a stern glare before turning to him, a smile in reply as she extended her hand.

"Sorry, we have been a bit... unprofessional, Mark. Before we go, my name is Jenny. I am a Brigadier and the Base Commander here. You can call me Jenny, though; no formalities needed."

He shook her hand with slight optimism, the woman seemingly the nicest of a cold and hardened bunch.

"Nice to meet you, I'm... well, it seems you already know." Mark said, sheepishly rubbing his neck.

Jenny chuckled, "Oh, we know all about you, Mark. Seems you made a bit of a... stir, shall we put it."

He looked down, "Y- Yeah..."

"Don't look so down." Jenny patted his shoulder, "You seem confused; we are confused. So, how about we become unconfused together, aye?"

"Sure? I'm not going to be... dissected or something, right?"

The Asshole laughed, "No. Fatima is... eccentric, but she prefers not to destroy what she has; nor what she gets. Budgets are low, I hear."

"Indeed." Jenny exhaled, "She might be an odd one, Mark. But she knows what she is doing... I think."

Mark chuckled slightly, a bit of humour to brighten his day.

Jenny coughed, looking nervous, "On that note. You're not afraid of needles, by any chance, are you?"

"Erm... not especially." He said sceptically, "But, I suppose that depends on how big it looks."

"Well, that is good to hear; no need to worry. Fatima will take good care of you during the coming tests; you have my word for it... at least it's better than Mr Suit here."

The man grunted in disapproval but followed behind them as they walked to the laboratories. A short three-minute walk entailed; the beeps and excited voices could be heard from a distance, enthralled with their new test subject. He grit his teeth, the feeling akin to walking into a mad scientist's lab.

The lab was blindingly white, shining off Asshole's bald head as a woman of eastern descent appeared. He did not intend to be rude, but his only thought on seeing her was: A midget. Everyone towered over her, his assumption of her being barely five foot if not less.

"Hi, there!" She very enthusiastically greeted, "I will be the primary scientist-come-doctor whilst you are here. It is good to finally meet you, Mark. Our superiors are very interested in your results... no pressure."

She ended with a tee-hee, Mark stunned by her introduction. To top it off, she had a strong accent; her English was good, but her words took a moment to understand.

"Hi..." He voiced nervously, "That's... nice to know, I guess?"

Fatima smiled, "You will be fine, you will be fine. Not a single thing to worry about." She turned to Barak and Jenny, "Are you two watching or leaving?"

The woman answered for both, "We're both staying. And for the record, Fatima, we're both Brigadiers. Treat us with respect. That'll be Ma'am and Sir. Even in your sanctuary, you still have obligations."

"Ah. Sorry, Ma'am."

"Just... get on with it. Politicians are impatient."

The impish scientist aggressively grabbed Mark, trying to drag him to a chair before he reluctantly followed.

"Sit." She commanded.

The chair was uncomfortable, causing him to fidget as Fatima returned with a tray of relatively dubious equipment, Mark's eyes narrowing. He shot a concerned gaze to Jenny, the scientist sighing.

"No need to panic, Mark." Fatima reassured, "I'm not going to stab you with the scalpal. Considering the more... supernatural aspects of what I was sent, I'd like to try some things down the line. With your permission."

Mark shrugged as five other scientists came over, fitted with tablets and cameras, setting them up.

"We will run some tests, blood samples, blood pressure; that kind of thing. The standard fare, if you will. First, we take a blood sample, if you don't mind?"

Nodding, she grabbed a long, sharp needle that glistened in the light. Outstretching his arm, she gently tried plunging the syringe into the vein. That was, until it casually snapped, the metal clanging onto the table.

"Hmm, jot that down if it happens again." Fatima spoke, glancing at her aides.

She grabbed another, ensuring it was new and sharp, before attempting again. It snapped and fell with a loud ping.

"Well... this is abnormal. The first was titanium, the second platinum, and both broke. Interesting..." She paused, "Considering your skin did not even budge, I doubt taking blood pressure is viable. We will do some minor tests before we sample the... strange stuff."

The following four hours were spent going through multitudes of tests and devices. Practically everything was examined: Brainwaves, muscle and bone density and X-Rays to name a few. Despite feeling no hunger or thirst, Mark was given a small dinner to tide him over the coming hours.

"Amazing!" Fatima gaped, "You are incredible, Mark! Just incredible! These results are just baffling."

"Erm, thanks." Mark uttered, the woman not losing any enthusiasm.

"Now... we get onto the strange stuff." She frowned at her pad, "We made some adjustments to the room for a... laser? Or a beam? Apparently, you may be involved? Is that true?"

Mark shook, the images of the hospital emerging, and his eyes widened in panic. Jenny walked over, holding his shoulder as he came back, a comforting smile on her face.

He gulped, "Y- Yes. I... I'm pretty sure I had some... beam thing."

"I see." Fatima sceptically spoke, "Well, we will see shortly. Go through the door and down the stairs. People are awaiting our results, so we do not have much time left."

Sent through a reinforced metal door, he trudged down the stairs into a dull, grey indoor open space. Everyone else was elevated behind a one-way glass window. Despite this, he could hear every word they spoke.

"Try not to inquire or speak about the hospital." Jenny ordered, "If he is dangerous, we would be best to not underestimate what trauma could cause."

"Sorry, Ma'am." Fatima replied, "I am not great with that stuff."

"Good that you understand." She glanced at everyone else, "It goes for all of you, too. Be careful what you say or do. I'll send a message to everyone on base later tonight; I expect everyone to follow it. You too, Barak."

Mark stood, seemingly aimlessly observing yet acutely listening. Their conversation halted; his feelings mixed. He appreciated Jenny's care, but it made him feel like a child; someone fragile that would slaughter them all.

The room's speakers screeched as they tuned themselves, Mark heavily wincing as his ears stung. He grunted as Fatima's voice came out seconds later.

"Sorry about the delay, Mark. How about we begin? First, we will test your strength. In front of you is a one-hundred-kilogram barbell. Could you try to lift it for us?"

Mark's hands grasped the weight and got into a deadlift position with trained movements.

"This one, right?" Mark asked.

"Yep." Fatima said through the intercom, "Lift it up; technique does not matter. We want to see the ease of how you do it."

'One-hundred kilograms? I've done heavier.'

Holding it firmly, he lifted it with a fair amount of effort, the bar disappearing from his view as he lost grip. A loud crash resounded throughout the room, debris falling from the ceiling as the barbell vanished.

"Errrr... what the fuck?" He gawked at the hole.

'W- What the fuck just happened?'

Quiet permeated both rooms; the jaws of everyone present dropped. Seconds passed before someone broke the silence; Jenny hesitantly questioned the scientist.

"E-Erm... Fatima. That... is not normal, right?"

"W-What?" Fatima stuttered, "N- No? Erm... Err, ok. Well... that was different."

She glanced at her aides.

"Erm... should we do a higher weight, Fatima?" One asked, "W- We have the electromagnetic weights."

"H- How about we try the 1000kg, Mark? No, the 1500 one." Fatima said.

'That... is over a tonne. Not even World Fitness had that high weight.'

Instructed to choose the correct weight, he picked one up. Following further commands, he manually changed the electric current inside, the bar getting heavier on the floor. Mark wondered what it was made of, the pressure on the material would be incredible.

Chuckling, he understood he had no right to question the base's ludicrousy, considering what he did. Using one arm to ensure it would not fly away, he picked it up as easily as a frisbee. It was big and bulky, certainly not made for casual use, but he moved it comfortably. He waved it through the air, making it swish like a steel sword as the air was barged around.

'Well. That was easy.' He sheepishly thought.

Despite all the excitement, praises and amazement from the scientists, Mark did not know how to feel. These powers were, on one hand, a fantastic gift, yet, they were directly culpable for the two tragedies he caused. He could not force himself to become happy or wowed, his thoughts eternally lingering on what this curse had caused. To forget all the faces, horrified and abused, of the deceased... would be sacrilege. And thus, he could not praise the Void. He could not praise his new-found powers.

Lost in his thoughts, the intercom thundered at a loud volume and caused him to grunt in slight pain.

"Mark? Hello? Is... is this thing working?" Fatima uttered.

"Sorry, yes. I'm here." He replied.

Fatima's eyebrows rose, her suspicions alerted, before humming and shrugging to herself.

"Are you ready to continue? We would... like to test some other things. The results are... well, absurd. Illogical."

Mark thumbed up towards the window, the woman taking a moment before speaking again.

"We will do something far heavier at a later date. For now, let us test your speed. Theoretically, it should have improved if your strength did so... please do not sprint?"

"Erm, alright. Just one end to another? A straight line, yeah?"

"That will be fine, thanks."

He prepared himself at one end, hoping to run at a slow jog. It should have been nice, quick and easy; however, it was not. Starting, he moved forward, his perception speeding up as he broke the sound barrier, lost control and smashed into the thick, metal wall in the likeness of a cannonball. Mark climbed out of the dent, his clothes battered and ripped but physically unharmed.

"Sorry..." He sheepishly said.

"N-No... it is ok. I t-thought I would be fine, but... I am pretty flabbergasted. Jonathan... jot that down, erm, massively increased speed and durability."

Jenny coughed, "Fatima, this... this is being recorded, right?"

"Yes. We... we will review it tomorrow. No, tonight." She turned to the microphone, "Let us move onto something more... infeasible, Mark. Are you able to do the, well, laser eyes? The beam?"

The scientist glanced at the female Brigadier, Jenny waving her hand dismissingly.

"It should be fine, Fatima." Jenny reassured.

Meanwhile, Mark was paused. He faced no interruptions, tranquil silence settling on the ragged and ruined room. The hospital spooked him; the dead bodies and violent scenes barraged him. His hand held his forehead, and his breathing quickened as he calmed himself. Taking a deep breath, he nodded at the glass.

"Whenever you are ready, Mark." Fatima kindly spoke, "The slab of metal towards the end of the room is from Luna. It is incredibly resistant to heat, so much so that it is used for fusion reactor testing in China. So, no worries about damage."

Walking towards it, he readied himself with another huff, narrowing his eyes and gazing at the slab like a hawk. He called upon the power, moments passing as nothing came out. The method he was using was to force something out of his eye sockets, yet nothing was occurring. Mark scratched his chin, brows furrowed.

Five minutes expired as he started to turn anxious, multiple eyes staring at him. He stared at the dull slab of shiny grey metal, his eyes bulging as he exerted pressure before stopping.

'Why is it not working? I don't understand. Am I doing something different?'

Exhaling, he relaxed and reluctantly thought back to the ward. He remembered the anger, the sorrow, the self-hate. He disliked reliving those emotions, but it seemed to trigger something; a mental switch. His eyes lit up bright red, the air simmering in front of him before Mark pushed it.

BZZZZ!

The laser shot from his eyes, super-heated and smashed with almighty force into the slab with the fury of a vengeful god. The shock snapped the Luna metal from the foundations, the floor bending and twisting as it melted into a gooey mess. Everything dissolved as he lost sight of the Luna metal, wishing for a better vantage point.

The heat washed over him, merely a light breeze upon his skin. Yet, as he wished to see what was happening, he started floating upwards without conscious design. Mark stared at the blistering, boiling bath of alloyed metal. He was... flying.

Panicking, he lost his balance but was kept in the air, lying horizontally as the laser still beamed into the floor. This time, perhaps because it was voluntary, he could feel a valve or a switch to turn it off. Obliging, it disappeared, deleted from existence. The room was sweltering, the metal walls and ceiling warping in the heat, despite the hole.

He dryly smiled, conquering how to control it, but the unfortunate events had already happened. Wobbling in the air, he struggled to get down, his handling and knowledge poor.

A voice came through the intercom, light static and distortion coming through.

"Erm... that was great, erm, Mark." Fatima nervously said, "Y- You are also f-flying."

Barak's shades were by his side, eyes wide-open as he gawked. His cool voice had turned shaky.

"W- What the fuck? He can fly, and shoot lasers? H-He also has absurd strength, speed and durability... is he human?"

Mark hovered over the liquid pool of death, desperately trying to move away from it and land.

'This is like learning to walk. How do I get down? Fuck... I'm so high.'

"Does he need leverage?" Fatima mumbled, "Is it instantaneous acceleration and deceleration? Omnidirectional? Can he go any direction at any speed, anytime? That would break the laws of physics... but he already has."

"Fatima." Jenny sternly said, "Stop rambling and help him out?"

"Ahem, sorry. I just got a bit excited. Scientists around the world will laud us for our work here! It is amazing!"

"If, Fatima. If it gets released, which it likely won't. You signed up for the military; you were aware things may not be disclosed, and others get the credit." The Brigadier paused, "Unless... you're planning on whistle-blowing?"

"No, of course not." Fatima blankly stated, "I am a scientist, not a soldier. Now, Mark. Erm... honestly, I have no idea how you would control that. Is it like a muscle? Maybe like your balance control?"

Trying to move as if his flight was a muscle, he finally saw movement. Mark shakily travelled backwards, the method relatively easy to understand, no different than learning to run from a jog. It was all about balance and his intentions.

"I... I think I got it. It's kinda like a muscle, I suppose." Mark uttered.

He touched down quite hard, landing with a thud. Nevertheless, there was no damage, and he had reached safety with relatively decent flight control. At least, good in terms of moving slowly rather than at speed.

"I-I think we have enough data right now, Mark." Fatima voiced, "If you would like to come up, that would be great. It is almost... midnight, so I would rather you get some sleep than be tired and..."

Understanding her implication, he dusted himself and annoyig poked his finger through a few holes in his t-shirt. The soles of his trainers were ruined, either burned in the heat or destroyed by the numerous collisions they had to survive. He shook his head, taking them off, his feet virtually unable to feel any heat.

Walking to the warped door, he opened it and started ascending the stairs, listening to the scientists who spoke in hushed whispers. Mark rubbed the back of his neck, a singular thought on his mind: This curse... could be used for so much good.